Breakfast at Noon
by dayofwriting
Summary: Jaime is secretly pretty good at cooking, and Bart has never had pancakes before. (aka I feel bad about all the angst going on right now so here have some fluff)


**A/N:** I wrote this as a response to the dramatic increase of angst and character death in light of recent events. So here's hoping this cheers up both of us, eh?

* * *

Bart's nose twitched slightly, his open mouth leaving a trail of saliva down to his pillow. He woke up slowly, taking a few long moments to clear his head of morning fog and remember where he was. The messy room was a dead giveaway. That, and the thick heat that was starting to make its way into the house. Pushing himself upright his gaze wandered around the familiar room before two things hit him.

First, that Jaime wasn't there, and second, that he could smell something utterly mind-numbing in its deliciousness. Bart tiptoed out to the hall, and then zipped to the kitchen, finding Jaime over the griddle with a spatula in hand. Suddenly leaning heavily against his side, Bart took a deep breath.

"Mmmm smells good, smells good, whatchya making there, _hermano_?" Bart asked with more enthusiasm than any teenager should after just waking up at the crack of noon. Jaime laughed as he took a moment to regain his balance and lightly push Bart's face away with his fingertips.

"Pancakes. It's the first Saturday of spring! New season…so…pancakes," Jaime trailed off and squinted his eyes at nothing, realizing he was not awake enough to try to apply logic to breakfast. Bart laughed and moved to pour himself a glass of orange juice.

"So is this what you do when your mom isn't home? Make fried cakes for breakfast at," Bart glanced at the clock mounted above the counter. "12:18 in the afternoon?" Jaime couldn't help but laugh.

"Yeah, I guess so," he said as he checked to see if Bart was looking and then made a big show of flipping the pancake through the air before catching it gracefully with a plate. He piled on four more pancakes and slid them across the counter to Bart.

"You want anything for those? Syrup, fruit, ice cream…" Jaime ticked off his fingers as he tried to recall the kitchen's inventory.

"Whatever you recommend, Retro Boy." Jaime's eyebrow shot up at the nickname, and Bart coughed. "Uh, sorry, _Chef_ Retro Boy." Jaime rolled his eyes but his mouth stayed in a smile as he turned away to grab some fixin's.

He came back with an armful of flavored syrups, chocolate chips, toffee bits, berries, and a can of whipped cream to top it all off. Bart's face lit up like it was all the best parts of heaven rolled into one mouth-watering assortment of toppings.

"All this for me? Now _that_ is crash!"

Jaime continued to supply Bart with pancakes and even managed to snag a few for himself.

Bart started talking around mouthfuls of warm, fluffy pancake, and Jaime zoned out and just studied his face for a little while. It took nearly a minute for the silence to reach his ears before he blinked at Bart and coughed slightly. Bart for once wasn't sure what to say, having caught his unwavering gaze and carefully watched Jaime for what he would do next.

Jaime immediately abandoned the "direct approach" idea and stood up, grabbing his plate in the same motion and placing it in the dishwasher. He turned around to Bart standing right in front of him, peering at him with green freckled eyes narrowed in consideration.

"Thanks for making breakfast, Jaime," Bart said in a very un-Bart-like manner. His eyes darted to Jaime's apron which he had forgotten to take off.

"It's no big deal. I like cooking," Jaime said, his nervous reaction to Bart's scrutiny seeping into his voice. Bart seemed to make a decision and stood up a little taller, slipping his hand around Jaime's head and gently pressing a kiss to his lips. Bart still tasted like a million kinds of sugar, and Jaime thought it was a million kinds of amazing. He broke the kiss but left his hand resting on Jaime's cheek.

"'Kiss the cook,'" Bart said easily, by way of explanation.

"What?" Jaime spluttered.

"It says so on your apron, and I wouldn't not listen to an apron," Bart breathed, smiling into his words.

Jaime wasn't sure if he was hot because of the heat that was still rolling off the stove or because the improbable boy of his dreams just kissed him for making pancakes. He promptly decided it didn't matter and pulled Bart into a hug.

"Mm, maybe I should make you pancakes more often, _cosita_." Jaime thought aloud. Bart pulled back enough to get a good look at Jaime's face. He placed a peck on Jaime's cheek and then another on his lips.

"Good idea. Don't forget to wear the apron," Bart teased with a wink.


End file.
